The morning news. [volume] (Savannah, Ga.) 1887-1900, 1887-07-18
JUST ABOVE GROUND.
An Old Lady Who Owns Her Own Cof-
fin Plate.
From the Cincinnati Enquirer.

From the Cincinnati Enquirer.
The words were engraved upon a silver
coffin plate, but there was no coffin under
them Mrs. Purroy, an elderly lady, visit
ing friends living in Clinton avenue, Ala
media. but whose home is in Williamsburg,
Long Island, n Y, looked with an air of
mingled pride and reverence upon the cary
ing; for her name was once Elma Griffin,
and the coffin that was made to hold her re
mains until dust returned to dust has prOba-
bly, commingled itself with the mortality Of
somebody else long ago; but the original
owner of the name upon the plate was still
alive to tell her friends a gruesome story.
''On my nineteenth birthday" she said,
"my mother invited a party of acqualnt-
ances TO our house to celebrate the day.
We lived soISe distance outside of Williams
burg, as it then was, and the ground was a
little soft and DOGGY. One Of my friends
remembered this as she was about to start
for her home with her brother, and she
laughingly congratulated me on being
| housed already and having no occasion TO
brave the swamp. / was wild young girl
! in those days and | declared at once that l
would go with them and return alone. Ev-
| erybody present tried to dissuade meek
| cept the girls brother.
1--WE started, and when we reached my
| friends house | was conscious that my feet
were quite wet and that a disagreeable chill
| had crept over me, but declined an invita-
| tiOn to go in and went away at once. OF
course Rob-the brother, mean-came with
me, and, somehow, | forgot the cold and
damp as | walked home.
THE ILLNESS.
| 81 think we must have talked for q long
| time as we stood on my uncle's doorstep, for
suddenly Rob-my escort, l mean-said !:
! 'Elma Tor Miss Griffin, or something, /
have forgotten how he called mel, your
face is very pale Have ] kept you
standing here too longH He talked to
me for ten minutes after that and then
wished me a good night and left me.
| rang the bell, and when my mother
| opened the door | told her, what | might
have known an hour sooner if l had given
it a thought, that l was really i'll. She
| hurried me to bed Immediately, and when
| she came to call me the following morning
she looked very anxious By noon | was de-
| lirious, but could hear the doctor tell my
mother | had typhoid fever, and that he
| could not hold out much hope for my re-
covery. knew that my mother was weep
| ing but | was always selfish girl, and |
could only cry out Robert, Robert where
| is Roberto and they told me, hardly think
| ing that ] heard them, that Robert had been
| suddenly called upon TO start for California
early that morning, and had not even heard
of my illness. He sent a letter to me, how
ever, but did not see it until many weeks
| later.
81 grew rapidly worse, and gradually the
| knowledge of all outward things passed
from me- fancy that had certain con-
| seriousness, but not of matters around me. |
was in another state of being, in which the
person acting and speaking-always
strangely speaking-was myself, and yet
not myself Then came an utter blank
| from which | awoke, after nearly three
| oil f,Nc md fha
doctor standing bymy bedside. The doctor
said the crisis was past, and | shonld prob
ably recover, but did not feel any interest
in what he was talking about.
| "The quiet days of convaleScence fol
| lowed, and the doctor, seeing that was
very weak, regarded me seriously, and
warned my mother that a relapse should be
carefully guarded against. | used at that
| time, too, to fan into curious physical con-
ditions that suppose were frances, in which
| | knew all that was going on around me,
| but from which | did not seem to care to
arouse myself by moving or speaking.
These periods of inactitude lasted longer and
| longer, but they were not observed, and as
they were rather pleasant than otherwise
said nothing about them.
DEATH.
Gone morning awolle from what seemed
| to be natural sleep, and lay with my eyes
|
| at first interpret; but slowly the knowledge
came to me that my mother was sobbIng
| beside my bed. | tried to ask her why she
was grieving, but could not move or speak.
| The trance was upon me. | was sensitive,
however, and knew that | was lying upon
| a hard substance, and not upon the comfort
| able mattress of my bed. | could feel, too,
| very little covering over me, and, despite
| my eyelids being down, the gloomy darkness
of the room could be detected. "Where in
the world have they carried me to-"
| thought.
| Presently l heard my mothers voice. and
l knew that she was speaking to my cousin
Mary, who was staying in the house with
us,
| that God would spare her to me. She strug-
gled through that dreadful illness only to
die quietly in her sleep at last 1t is very
hard, Mary
II have often wondered since that did
| not really die of horror at that moment, as
| realized like lightning flash, that they
thought | was dead and had put me in my
coffin. They were going to bury met
strove hard to speak, but the sphinx was
the rock of Gibraltar might have moved as
easily Must my life be smothered out in a
grave for want of little speech or action
nowr thought
"'It is hard, indeed, dear aunt replied
Mary, but His will be done. You must
arouse yourself The undertaken will close
the coffin in few minutes. Do you think
Robert--Mr. Purroy-will be heren
II hardly think so now answered my
mother, YEARLY. Something must have
happened to delay him. He was to have
arrived at home yesterday, but he did not
come, and | postponed the burial until to-
day He had not heard of her death Poor
fellow! The news will nearly kill him.
There is one person in the world, think,
who loved poor Elma as dearly as did
"'Oh, Robert Robert, l cried with a
silent voice, come quickly If you look at
me you will know | am not dead
81 heard a knock Mt the bedroom door
Was it Roberts No, it was only the under
| taker'
MAY | close it now, ladies 2 he asked, in
professionally mournful but very business.
| like tones.
| REVIVAL.
Nobody but myself knew that my heart
was beating, and even | hardly knew it as
the undertaken spoke. A second afterward
| it seemed to me that it throbbed loudly
enough for every one to hear it, for some
body rang the door-bell, and knew as well
that 1t was Robert as though my sealed eyes
could have looked through brick and wood
| and mortar, to see him standing outside
Softly and quietly he entered the room ;
gravely and calmly he asked my mother and